Spanner in the works
by StrifeMillions
Summary: This fic starts out somewhere in Ep 23, when Mireille meets Breffort. I might have changed the characters a slight bit. Chloe, Mireille and Kirika all survive. Reviews, comments and ideas much appreciated :)


_This fic starts out somewhere in Ep 23, when Mireille meets Breffort. I will change the ending, because a recent story I read changed the way I look at the series. Also, the Langumal Manuscript, the book of Les Soldats – I'm assuming its some sort of historical chronicle._

_I might have changed the characters a slight bit._

_Reviews, comments and ideas much appreciated :)_

_And I don't own Noir._

-Reflections-

Remy Breffort was impressed. All sixteen shots from the Walther P99 had hit the target, a simple circle drawn in chalk, within half an inch of each other. He could see the teenaged blonde who had caused it. Mireille Bouquet. She looked so much like Odette.

Remy had been quite surprised to hear of the deaths of Lauren and Odette, and even more surprised that the Soldats hadn't acted against Altena. More than half of the Council seemed to believe in the high priestess' plan to 'revive' their order. Remy thought she was a flaming lunatic.

But, she'd let Mireille survive, she'd let her be trained in the art of killing by Claude Feyder, himself one of the Soldats' deadliest killers. She had become a monster, a different kind of monster from the other two 'saplings' that had survived (and countless others hadn't – another reason Remy wanted Altena's madness to stop was the fact that there had been several other candidates, all originally children, who hadn't lived to see their teenage years because of that woman). But, maybe a monster who could server their interests. He and his allies on the Council of the Soldats, a group who wanted to end Altena's experiment.

"What do you want?" asked a voice, off to Breffort's right.

He should have expected her to hear. She was a brilliant assassin after all, possibly the best. She had leveled her gun at him. Breffort didn't think she'd miss, either.

"I'll admit that was impressive", he said.

"That doesn't answer my question", said Mireille, impassively.

"I would like to talk with you. I am of the Soldats, a rather high ranking member, in fact."

"Then talk."

"It is rather dark here. And damp." Breffort shivered. The sewer was a place he didn't want to visit again. "My leg…it pains me. Would you mind going up?"

Mireille sighed and put her gun in her purse. "Then I lead you where I want to go. I'm pretty sure you'll take me to an open area with snipers around."

Breffort smiled. "I can't blame you for the mistrust."

"The Soldats are not my friends. They never will be, but I know the way the world works. We may be able to help each other. That is the only reason I'm even agreeing to talk further."

Breffort thought to himself, "The independent sapling…I do believe she can be our answer." He smiled, and replied, "Please, lead the way."

Mireille noticed the briefcase Remy carried. "Would you like me to carry your briefcase?"

Remy smiled and nodded. "Thank you", he said, holding it out. She accepted it and walked ahead, beckoning him to follow.

-0-

Breffort looked up at the clear blue sky and remarked, "I do enjoy being in the light. It is relaxing, somehow. Away from the darkness…"

Mireille looked at him impassively. "I do not know. I chose the darkness, or maybe it chose me. Either way, even if I do seek it, it will be an illusion", she remarked.

"All of life is an illusion, Miss. Bouquet", said Breffort, and chuckled. He spotted a bench up ahead, in the direction they were walking. They were in a neighborhood park. He switched his cane from his right hand to his left and told Mireille, "Could we sit there? Like I said, my leg is not in the best possible shape."

Mireille looked over at him, and said, "Yes, of course. It is why I brought you here. There isn't a café nearby with the required level of privacy. This park, it is quiet this time of day…And despite my profession, I am not cold-hearted. I always planned to carry out our dialogue sitting down." She gave him a slight smile.

Breffort smiled back.

They walked up to the bench. Mireille remained standing while Remy seated himself. Then, apparently satisfied that he had managed without any trouble, she placed her briefcase next to him, stepped away and sat down near the other end of the bench.

This little act hadn't gone unnoticed by Remy. "The child shows courtesy, and takes a position at a neutral distance before beginning the dialogue…hmm."

They sat in silence for a while.

Presently, Mireille said, "So, what did you want to talk about, Monsieur Breffort?"

Remy raised his eyebrow a fraction. "You know who I am?"

"Yes. I know all the Soldats' Council. There are nine, I believe. Uncle Claude left files on each one for me. They passed to me on his death."

Remy considered briefly before replying, "Yes, that would make sense. Mr. Feyder did love you like a daughter…Well, you are right, I am Remy Breffort, one of the Inner Council of the Soldats. And I would like you to know that I am not your enemy, nor someone you should hate."

Mireille looked at him with interest. "Mind enlightening me why that is?"

Remy leaned back and looked up at the sky. "Out of the nine of us, four were opposed to the Noir plan…Sure, it was a myth covered extensively in the Langumal Manuscript, but there hasn't been a Noir for centuries. I personally thought the plan to resurrect it was insane, and I was strongly opposed to it. But, we were overruled. And it came to be." He gave a pause, as if to gather his thoughts, all the while observing Mireille. She betrayed nothing.

He resumed, "You were earmarked as one of the most promising candidates. However, Laurent and Odette opposed giving you up…and for that, they died. The one behind the Noir plan spared you, however, and let you be raised by Claude."

"But, Uncle Claude said he did it under Soldats orders. He said he was to train me in the art of killing, give me the strength to be independent, and the skill and ability to avenge my family when the opportunity finally came."

Remy nodded. "No more than a ruse…Both you and your uncle were misdirected. If I were to guess, I'd say it was because of the originator of the plan, she probably wanted to see how you'd do alone, on your own, without undergoing the training given to the others. Another pawn in her grand experiment."

Mireille asked, "Who is this originator you talk about?"

Remy considered her for a moment. "Well, it wouldn't hurt to tell you. She is known as the High Priestess Altena. A rather mysterious woman…Even I don't know much about her, but I do know that she managed to convince five out of nine to go along with her plan. It's been over a decade, and I believe she's planning a ritual to bring it to fruition soon."

"To resurrect Noir? Like it says in the Manuscript."

"It would seem so. The Langumal Manuscript is a chronicle of the Soldats…a rather romanticized chronicle but only a chronicle nonetheless. However, Altena made many believe it was a religious text of sorts, and made Noir out to be almost mythical. Using this to convince the members of a society such as the Soldats was easy, so steeped in tradition and the past are we."

"You have a copy of this?"

"I expected you to ask me for it." He reached for his briefcase, took it and opened its lock. He took out a thin sheaf of papers and held it out to Mireille. She accepted it.

"This contains the part of the Manuscript relevant to Noir…it was given to each of the Council to convince us to buy in to the plan. I can loan it to you to read for a time."

"Thank you." Mireille put the papers into her handbag and then went on, "I'm guessing you come to me with some sort of proposition?"

"Laurent and Odette Bouquet made the mistake of going against the Soldats, even if it was the right thing to do at the time…I want to offer you the chance to correct that…the Bouquet family had always been a powerful, influential part of the order. There are several who are keen to see that happen again. So, will you join us? You can be the one ruling, not being ruled…"

Mireille gave Remy a crooked smile. "So, you just want a figurehead for the Bouquet family to improve your position? You and your faction? My family's assets passed to me last year, as did Uncle Claude's. They are being capably managed by my retainers, and I live a comfortable life that fulfills me well enough. Why would I give that up to join the order that ordered the murder of my parents? Why would I join a group that inflicted unknown horrors upon my partner and several others, all in the pursuit of some ancient myth?"

"I cannot blame you for your skepticism, but know this, the Soldats are powerful, and their goal is to maintain order in a world that laughs at the notion. To be honest, the reason we would prefer you as one of us is not only your bloodline, which by itself is very blue, very powerful. There is also the fact that you have built everything you are, all on your own…We see potential. The sort that can change the world, shape and mould it in the vision of our order. This is why we would like you to be a part of us…For that, you need to go to where your partner has gone, to where Altena lives, and ensure that you became the Noir."

Mireille frowned, considering everything.

"In essence, you want me to clean up the mess you couldn't prevent, make me become a powerful symbol of you order, and then have me join the order as your ally so that you could put others under the illusion that you control me, thereby empowering you and your stooges, and taking the Soldats in the direction you want to take it? Is that about it?"

Remy sighed. "Even I realize it would not be so simple. None of us can presume to control your actions. You have your motivations, we have ours. We only hope that you will be reasonable, and realize that allies are powerful, important. Of course, this is assuming you do join."

Mireille sat back, looking at the sky, pondering. Remy shifted his cane to his left hand, and moved to get his briefcase. Mireille noticed this movement, got up and helped the middle-aged man up. She retrieved his briefcase and handed it to him, smiling slightly.

Remy chuckled. "Ah, your courtesy and consideration for an old man is refreshing…Anyhow, Miss. Bouquet, do think on what I have said. As you well know, time is of the essence. I will give you a day's time, and send you a missive with a meeting location. Go through the manuscript, and see what you think of the myth of the Noir. I hope we can help each other."

-0-

Mireille sat against the frame of the window. Kirika had loved doing that, just staring out into space for hours at a time. Mireille had always wondered what the younger girl saw. But now, she had a slight inkling as to why her partner favored it so. It was a good, peaceful spot to reflect, to think.

The apartment hadn't been cleaned since that attack by the grunts of the Soldats. Broken glass everywhere, furniture riddled with bullets. All but the pool table, funnily enough. It had escaped relatively unscathed. The chaos of life, reflected Mireille.

Mireille considered what she had read of Noir from the Langumal Manuscript. It was quite obviously a highly romanticized version of a possibly true story, written by a sensationalist of limited talent who probably wanted to sell it as a religious text of sorts. And from what Remy Breffort had said, the one called Altena, the High Priestess had used this to sell her crazy idea to resurrect the Noir and made herself out to be some sort of religious leader of the Soldats in the process.

Mireille had no interest in religions. In her opinion, some random wise man had put it best when he called it 'the opium of the masses'. Of course, it could have been a wise woman. It was a moot point. She refused assassinations involving anyone related to anything remotely religious, after one particularly bad experience in Paraguay on a job with her uncle. She resolutely avoided places of worship as a matter of principle. As such, the myth, prophecy, and romanticism of Noir held no significance whatsoever to her mind. If they had existed, Noir had no doubt been capable assassins, no doubt. But, angels of death? Goddesses of darkness? Mireille laughed at the absurdity of the notion.

She sighed, and turned back to look at the wreckage of the living room. The potted plant that she and Kirika had looked after had wilted. Its pot had broken in the assault on her apartment. She hadn't bothered to repot it, and it seemed like it had died due to the lack of care. Mireille walked over to get rid of it. As she moved the remnants of the pot to tip it over into the dustbin, she noticed a white envelope below. She got rid of the plant and picked up the envelope. 'Mireiyu' had been written on it. Kirika. She was the only one who called her by that name – Mireille had found that she liked being called that by the younger Japanese girl and hadn't corrected her. It seemed like Kirika had understood that and had transferred the nickname, if it could be called that, into her written communication with Mireille as well as well.

She opened the envelope and began reading.

_'Mireiyu, I have a terrible premonition and so I am writing you this letter. Not long ago, Chloe told me that the Soldats Manor is my home. I may... I may never be able to see you again as I am now. There is another me, I can feel it below the surface, a monster waiting for release... Like I said before, I don't mind it if you kill me, however, when that time comes, I'm not sure there'll be time for final words. That's something I could not bear. Because there is... something I want to tell you. Mireiyu... I was alone. Always so alone. I never had anything good in my life. It was terrible and painful… However, after I met you, after we started this, I wasn't alone for the first time in my life. I don't care about the Soldats or about Noir or about anything in this life, but I care about you, Mireiyu. You were there for me... I was happy because you were there... I was so happy... truly happy, the kinds of happiness that assassins like us maybe don't deserve... all because of you, my Mireiyu, whom I cherish. I cannot describe it in words, but maybe it is what they call love? _

_I would like to thank you, Mireille Bouquet. Thank you so very much. Sayonara…'_

Mireille felt her eyes cloud over. A tear drop fell on to the paper. And then another… and another. They were flowing freely now. She replaced the letter, now one of her most precious possessions in the envelope, and sank down to the floor. She cried openly. For the first time in over a decade, Mireille Bouquet gave herself completely to her normally tightly controlled emotions. She cried because she had cruelly pushed away the only person who had truly loved her since her parents had died. Had run away from her feelings, from the feelings her partner had for her, the ones she had refused to see, all because she couldn't handle it. Like some monster, she had just left Kirika there at the cemetery, abandoned her to her dark fate, all because she had been too weak, too blind to see what was in plain sight.

Soon, she stopped crying, as she came to a decision. She would save her partner even if it meant her life, to repay her for not abandoning Mireille like everyone else in her short life, and to make up for doing it to her at the cemetery. And because she had been the only person Mireille had cared so deeply for in a long time. Mireille had been powerless to protect her parents from their fates, but she still had a chance at saving Kirika. She could only hope she wasn't too late.

And there was also the matter of Chloe. Mireille honestly felt sorry for the girl, because she hadn't been given the chance at being away from the madhouse that was the Church of Noir within the Soldats like Kirika had. The conclusion that she had reached from reading the manuscript differed greatly from Altena's. She believed that if she played it right, she could save two instead of one. And she began preparing to make it happen…

-0-

The Cathedral was quite beautiful. Remy Breffort stood at the courtyard leading into it, waiting. Mireille had acquiesced to meet him there. Suddenly, his cell phone started ringing. He flipped it open. An unknown number. He accepted the call.

"Hello, Remy Breffort speaking."

"Ah, Mr. Breffort. I'm sorry for causing you this inconvenience, but could you come over to the entrance of the cemetery."

Remy didn't know how Mireille had gotten his number, and he really didn't care overmuch. "My, my, Ms. Bouquet, you are rather morbid."

"A necessary precaution. You see, I spotted your snipers a mile away. You should realize, Mr. Breffort, that I am no fool. I would hate to come over to the place you suggested and die there. I never liked cathedrals and I have a lot of other things to do. Oh and do tell your men to back off when you come here. I don't like more company that I need to bear, and if you think about it carefully, I have no reason to kill you."

Remy sighed. "Ah well, it seems you refuse to let me gain any sort of advantage. So be it. I was the one who initially approached you, after all."

Remy made his way to the cemetery behind the cathedral. He looked around for Mireille. He saw her setting down a bunch of roses at a gravestone. "Ah, yes. This is where her parents are buried…", Remy thought to himself. He smiled wryly at his choice of meeting location.

Mireille stood awhile looking at the gravestones, before walking up to Remy.

"Ah, it's good to see you again, Mr. Breffort."

"Likewise, Miss. Bouquet. I trust you have come to a decision."

"I have", said Mireille, producing the sheaf of papers Breffort had given her the previous time they'd met. She returned it to him. "I thank you for letting me look at this."

"It was no problem. So, what will you do? I am eager to hear your choice."

"I will go to the place where your high priestess plans to do the ritual. I will see for myself the one who started this all, the one who cause me, Kirika and so many others immeasurable pain." Mireille's voice cracked with emotion. She recomposed herself. "But don't misunderstand. I'm not going for your sake. I'm going for mine; I'm going because I don't believe in mystical bullshit like prophecies and romanticized myths. I don't care about Noir. The Soldats will always be my enemy, no matter what. It's because of them that I lost my chance at the normal life my parents wanted for me. I only care about saving my partner…and that other girl too, if possible."

"Oh, I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I have to ask you again. Do you not want to wield the power to change the world? Are you satisfied with being a tool for other people?"

Mireille contemplated the question for a moment. "My parents were Soldats, it is true. My uncle was also a Soldat. But, you know, I understood why they defied you people all those years ago. They wanted their daughter to avoid the fate that Kirika and Chloe have had dealt them, as a result of being under the care of the Soldats. They did it because they loved their daughter. That is all."

Remy sighed. "So be it. I can give you the location of the Manor. The rest is up to you…I have no doubt that it will be an interesting result."

Mireille gave him a crooked smile. "Of that, I have no doubt either."

Remy said, "The Manor is at the border of Spain and France, in a town where the people still live in the past, trying to relive the glory days of the Soldats in the Medieval ages. Here are its exact co-ordinates." He handed Mireille a piece of paper.

"Thank you, Mr. Breffort. It has been a pleasure meeting you." She started to walk away.

Remy called out after her. "You know, it may sound funny, but I wish you the best of luck. I do hope you find what you're looking for." Mireille turned back, smiled and continued on her way. To the Manor. To Kirika. To Altena. To disrupt the dark destiny of the Noir.


End file.
